Why do people find Zach Braff so annoying? Our pop culture columnist thinks she has the answer.  

by Ashley Canino

I am not a Zach Braff hater. That audience certainly exists; they’re the people who found Scrubs to be immature and thought Garden State to be self-serving and contrived. There are people who are ready to pounce on whatever he produces. The Kickstarter fund Braff started back in April 2013 to raise money for his latest project, Wish I Was Here, did not affect my opinion of him, but I kept my ears open to the criticism he received for turning to “regular” folks instead of a studio, or his own pockets, to fund production. The plot description he offered was thin and a bit confusing, but that didn’t stop potential backers from throwing down their hard-earned dollars. More than 46,000 people collectively pledged $3.1 million in 30 days, surpassing Braff’s goal by 50 percent. Now, a little more than a year later, Wish I Was Here is set to open in select theaters. Reflecting on an early screening, I can begin to relate to that specific type of Braff-induced rage that has permeated discussion of the film to date.

The story, penned by Braff and his brother, Adam, follows Aidan Bloom [Braff], a thirty-something chasing his dream of becoming an actor while his wife [Kate Hudson] supports them and their two precocious children. Aidan’s father [Mandy Patinkin] has been paying his grandchildren’s tuition at a private Jewish school, but when a serious illness resurfaces, his money must be spent on treatment, and Aidan decides to homeschool his kids. Layered on this more than sufficient framework are Aidan’s fantasies of being a science-fiction hero, complete with floating orb robot buddy. Confused yet? Well, you should also know that Aidan’s mother has already passed away and that his children are grappling with opposite struggles regarding their school-taught faith. Oh, and his brother, though he lives in a trailer and does not appear to work, is a certified genius.

The densely overpopulated storyline is steeped in speedy banter, usually at the expense of Judaism, and what must be every one-line teaching moment Zach Braff was able to generate in the last 10 years since Garden State premiered. Halfway through the movie, Aidan looks into his brother Noah’s eyes through the glass helmet that completes Noah’s homemade dive suit (don’t ask) and announces, “The thing about hiding in a fish bowl, is that everyone can see you.” Cue piano. (I will not discuss the strength of the soundtrack, except to say that it is probably worth a listen on its own; it did not add a layer to the movie, a la Garden State. Braff is a strong curator and editor when it comes to standalone playlists). The thing about one-liners is the more you pile them on top of each other, the more submerged each one becomes. Cue piano. The thing about one-liners is that in order to be profound, they must have a valid root in the scene, a valuable instruction, and they must be used sparingly. Cue piano. The thing about one-liners is that when they are followed by the same musical cue every single time, they become exhausting. It is unimaginable that after whatever negative criticism Garden State did garner, Wish I Was Here’s script not only showed no restraint, but exploded in the direction of contrivance. I can only assume that with two Braffs involved, the self-indulgence factor grew exponentially.

Though her role is positioned as a progressive, 21st century inversion of typical gender expectations, Hudson’s Sarah is little more than a female prop. She exists because the Aidan character needs a lot of time to fantasize about running around on a distant planet, but somebody needs to pay the bills. She stays on the periphery of her family for the entirety of the film, at one point eerily watching through the blinds as Aidan joyfully plays with the kids in the backyard. Dare she join? Why would she? She is a modern woman and her place is in the cubicle. Even in her downtime, she is not brought into the family fold; Aidan instead leaves her a pile of her own money with a note indicating she should get a massage. She smiles, gleeful, and disappears only to resurface at Aidan’s father’s bedside and assert that she is “a matriarch.” Don’t worry. She eventually escapes the doldrums by cashing in on a sexual harassment case. Phew. This conception of a contemporary mother, wife, and individual is what I found most insulting about the film. But I could see another viewer more offended by the many jovially delivered, borderline anti-Semitic quips.

If there was anything to like about Wish I Was Here, child actors Pierce Gagnon and Joey King performed beautifully as Tucker and Grace, Aidan and Sarah’s children. They manage to infuse energy into the pedantic script, and at times even draw what looks like honest emotion out of Braff and Hudson. Gagnon brought a smile to my face many times, just by uttering a bad word. When King delivers a line to Patinkin, stating the welding goggles she bought her dying grandfather are for the bright light he will eventually see, you want to forgive her. She is only a child.

I did not pledge anything to the Wish I Was Here Kickstarter fund. I did not even pay to see the movie. But I am still left with the feeling that I want my money back–some repayment of the benefit of the doubt I had given the film’s auteur and star. Wish I Was Here could have been something for its backers, much like the crowd-funded Veronica Mars feature-length film. Instead, it was produced solely for the celebrity who needed your money to do things his way.

Wish I Was Here opens today in select theaters.

Ashley Canino writes The Riveter‘s Pop Rivets column. You can follow her on Twitter @AshleyCanino.